In The End
by BakaMondai
Summary: Prompt:Pretend that the Epilogue of Harry Potter never existed. Write your own mini-version of what is going on nineteen years after Voldemort's defeat in 750 to 1000 words. Written for a contest on on hexrpg.


Even nineteen years later, Harry wasn't sure where exactly his life had gone lopsided. He thought had done everything had killed Voldemort at seventeen, had joined the auror training program at eighteen and he had gotten the girl, the beautiful Ginny Weasley to be his wife by twenty-one.

Harry walked into his darkened apartment, tossing down his coat and flicking on the light by the door. Harry debated casting a tempus charm, but decided it was probably better that he didn't, since he was planning on getting absolutely wasted. Pulling out a bottle of fire whiskey he sat down to think. Again.

Perhaps he had gone wrong with Ginny. Perhaps he had misjudged their goals, or he had been blind to the differences, or possibly existence, of them. All he knew is that his restlessness had driven her away. But while everyone else had known exactly what they had wanted to do after Hogwarts, Harry knew the auror program wasn't for him. Oh, he had joined the training program with Ron and had laughed and joked about the rigor with his best mate, but Harry knew that the paperwork made his head ache and the twists and tangles of bureaucracy set his teeth on edge. Harry had only lasted a year. He had lasted until Ron had died, and then he had walked away from it like everything else.

He knew he could never go into research like Hermione had, into flying like Ginny, or into supplying potion ingredients like Neville. He couldn't sit at home though. There was a futility to it, where he felt like he didn't belong after he killed Voldemort.

Harry glanced down at the bottle. He had already drank about half. He wondered idly if he might need another one before the night was over, and if so whether he had any hangover remedy's brewed.

He knew he couldn't blame Ginny for leaving him. She had waited for three years, probably longer than anyone should have, longer than she should have. She had been with him through the nightmares of the war, past them and into matrimony. Molly had cried at the wedding and the day three years later when Ginny, swollen with their child, had signed the divorce paperwork. She had remarried, but she was always better at relationships than he was.

At that point he had simply sunk further into himself. Everyone had been too busy with their own lives to see how the end of the war had affected him. He drifted through jobs, drifted through life almost on autopilot. Sometimes he visited Teddy, sometimes he visited his son Gideon, sometimes he simply drifted through Diagon Alley looking at his old schoolmates and wondering idly why everyone's lives had already moved on while his still seemed a tattered mess.

What use was he? He often wondered what the point of a hero was when there was no villain to fight anymore. When all the monster had been expunged from the world what use was someone trained to fight them? Perhaps the fire whiskey was making him maudlin, but he never felt closer to Sirius than he had these last couple of years. His head had felt like he was in a fog, probably since Ron had died and Hermione had driven herself into her own work. She barely visited these days, too occupied with House Elves and Goblins and other magical creature laws.

Harry went to take another swig from the fire whiskey, but was disappointed to find the bottle was completely empty.

It was then that a knock came at the apartment door. Unexpected, since he didn't get many visitors. He stood wobbling on his feet hiccuping lightly as he stumbled to open it. Remembering at the last moment, he peered through the porthole to see Hermione's curly hair. For a moment Harry debated not letting her in at all to see him drunk, unshaven with bloodshot eyes but her voice came from behind the door.

"Harry, let me in," Her voice was gentle but firm, like Hermione's voice always was and so he opened the door for her. She stared at him for a minute when the door opened. "Oh, Harry." She breathed quietly after staring at him for a minute. "Let me in."

They moved out of the doorway and into the sparsely decorated living area. She spoke to Harry quietly for a few moments, but the fire whiskey was making his brain foggy by this point and he could barely make out her words. Finally, she realized he wasn't listening at all, and noticing the empty bottle on the coffee table she sighed and grabbed his hand.

"It'll be alright, Harry." Hermione told him quietly, before guiding him to his bedroom and tucking him into the bed.

It wasn't much, but it was all Harry had left.


End file.
